


Dance the Night Away

by rangerhitomi



Series: radical dreamers [15]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangerhitomi/pseuds/rangerhitomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a knight and a prince walk into a tavern...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance the Night Away

Nasch breached the subject after a training session, where they were both shirtless and dripping with sweat. At first, Durbe thought it was a joke, and had laughed as he dried himself off. But at Nasch’s scowl, he realized it wasn’t. He couldn’t even attribute it to a language mix-up – certainly, there were aspects of this country’s language that he still found difficult to grasp, even after all these months, but-

_take me into the city, Sir Durbe_

-was about as straightforward as Nasch could have gotten.

“Prince Nasch-” he began, adjusting the saddle on Mach’s back and reaching for his shirt, but Nasch shook his head.

“Do I have to make it an order?”

Durbe held out his hands peaceably. “If your father found out I snuck you out of the palace-”

“Don’t let him find out.”

The knight frowned and leaned his arm on Mach’s back. “If I may be so bold as to ask exactly _why_ the sudden interest in going to the city?”

Nasch placed his sword tip-down in the ground and pulled his shoulders back proudly. “Someday I will be king, and a king needs to know how his people live.”

Nasch was entirely too stubborn, and Durbe had no choice but to give in, about as reluctantly as he had ever given into something before. He had spent very little time in the city himself, and there was only one place he went with any regularity, and he wasn’t sure the young prince would feel quite as comfortable there.

—-

Nasch pulled the hood up just enough to be able to read the swaying sign overhead.

“ _Drunken Knight Lodge_?” he read, sounding skeptical. He hoped this wasn’t a sign of how the rest of the night would go. “Sir Durbe, why have you taken me here?”

Durbe had his hood down, letting the cool ocean breeze ruffle through his hair and cloak. Truth be told, he rather enjoyed this kingdom’s quirky taverns. This one was his favorite, in part because it was close to the palace, and also because it had an excellent bard who told riveting stories and sang amusing songs. He hoped someday that he would be able to have his tales of flying hundreds of miles over oceans and kingdoms, fighting the wild beats of the New World, and protecting his kingdom recorded for posterity. “You didn’t say _where_ you wanted to go in the city, my pr- my friend. I have learned much of your kingdom’s culture from these taverns, as well as some more common language.”

They had talked it over; Nasch pulled his hair back to keep it from showing and would go with his hood up to hide his face – he was hardly an unrecognizable figure this close to the palace – and Durbe would simply refer to him as “my friend” if anyone asked.

“That’s hardly reassuring,” Nasch muttered, unnerved, but he followed the knight anyway.

Upon entering, Durbe let out a satisfied sigh and headed for the bar, a scowling Nasch behind him.

“Good evening, Sir Durbe,” the innkeeper said, pulling out a large mug. “We got a new kind of ale in today, would you and…” he frowned at Nasch, who lowered his head more. “Your…”

“My friend!” Durbe said, possibly too loudly, clapping Nasch on the shoulder. “Yes, go ahead and get us both a mug.”

The keep gave Nasch another suspicious once-over before pouring two frothing mugs and setting them in front of the knight and his lord. Durbe smiled broadly and picked his up with a loud “a toast to the King, and may he rule in wisdom and love for many years to come!” and promptly downed half of it in one breath.

“Unbelievable,” Nasch hissed at Durbe, who wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “You’re a seasoned drinker, aren’t you?”

“Where I come from, unspoiled water is a luxury and ale is commonplace.” Durbe took another swig. “Ah, nice and sweet. Go on, my pr… my friend, give it a try.”

Nasch picked up his mug and took a small sip, coughing immediately. He wasn’t sure what Durbe tasted, but it was bitter and reminded him vaguely of spoiled fruit. The keep glared at him again as Durbe gently rubbed his back.

“Don’t like it?”

Nasch shook his head and pushed it at Durbe. “You can have it. I just want some wine, if that’s all right.”

The knight shrugged and called over for a glass of wine, which Nasch drained quickly to get the taste of the ale out of his mouth. Durbe raised an eyebrow and picked up Nasch’s discarded mug. “Who is the real seasoned drinker here, my friend?”

“Quiet.”

—-

Three mugs of ale later and Durbe was red faced and laughing, having loud and increasingly embarrassing conversations with the other patrons. Nasch sipped at his third glass of wine, keeping his head down with all the attention Durbe was drawing. He wanted to evaporate when Durbe started up a heroic tale where he singlehandedly slayed a giant snake in the jungles of his home kingdom. It was certainly an impressive feat, but Nasch wondered how exaggerated the snake’s size was. He couldn’t imagine a snake big enough to crush a man to death. Then again, the jungles near Durbe’s kingdom seemed filled with vicious cats the size of horse carts and insects the size of small birds, and Durbe was an honorable and trustworthy man, so Nasch could only assume he was telling the truth and that that his kingdom was a terrifying place.

He wasn’t sure at what point his third glass became his fourth, and at what point Durbe’s fourth mug became his fifth, but he became aware that there was a bard playing a lute and Durbe was singing along in a drunken baritone – he had a pleasing singing voice, despite his words starting to slur – and Durbe’s arm was wrapped around his shoulders, hand tight on his upper arm.

If he had been thinking clearly, he might have removed Durbe’s arm with a muttered oath that he’d see him in the stocks if he touched him like that again, but he found to his surprise that, drunk, he didn’t really mind it all that much.

A fair-skinned young woman tugged on Durbe’s arm to get him to dance with her, and he finally pulled away from Nasch and joined her, swinging her around and singing; her face became red with laughter and when the song ended, she pulled herself closer and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Nasch felt a twinge of something inside of him – concern for his friend, he told himself – and pushed his empty glass away.

He made his way to the middle of the room and gently tapped Durbe on the shoulder. Durbe turned, looking somewhat surprised and a lot ruddy-faced. “May I intervene, Sir Durbe?”

Durbe frowned, but nodded, and turned to the woman. “My lady.” He bowed and kissed her hand. She gave a slight curtsy and a rather scathing look at Nasch – _if you had any idea you just glared at the prince_ – before moving on to the next willing dancer.

“What can I do for you, my friend?”

“You can take me back now, and then I’m going to douse your head in cold water and make you sleep in the stables with Mach.”

Durbe flinched. “My friend-”

“Is there a reason you keep saying that?”

“Aren’t you?” Durbe sounded somewhat hurt.

Nasch was taken aback by this. “Y-yes, naturally, but… Durbe, I’m worried about you and I think we should leave because you’ve had too much to drink tonight.” His own head was starting to hurt. Sticking his own head in cold water might be a good idea.

Durbe frowned at the floor. “I suppose you’re right. But my friend, would you first do me the honor of a dance?”

 _A dance? Is he mad?_ “Now?”

Durbe smiled and grabbed Nasch’s hands. Nasch felt his face warm. “Of course! Just follow my lead.”

Nasch’s terror level spiked as Durbe alternatively pulled him close and stepped back, spun him around clumsily (he awkwardly ended up tangled in Durbe’s arms against his chest for nearly ten seconds amid raucous laughter before Durbe pulled free), and finally dipped him – Nasch had to fling one arm around Durbe’s shoulders and hold his hood in place with the other before it could slip off. Nearby spectators laughed as Durbe helped Nasch back to his feet.

“Yes, I think it is time to take my leave,” Durbe announced, waving his hand cordially. “God bless.”

He linked his arm with Nasch’s – tightening his grip when Nasch tried to pull away – and headed back into the night.

—-

Durbe took a side road that Nasch was unfamiliar with; at first he feared that Durbe was turned around in his drunken state. His steps were certainly shaky, and more than once Nasch had to veer him back in a straight line. But when he saw the back of the royal stables, he realized Durbe must take this route often. This thought made him a little uncomfortable.

“Sir Durbe-”

“Please, my prince, call me Durbe.”

“Then call me ‘Nasch.’”

“That would be a high dishonor.”

“I can tell you where to shove that dis-” Nasch bit his tongue. “Formal titles between friends are unnecessary, wouldn’t you say?”

Durbe didn’t answer, and instead pushed open the back door and felt his way through the dark, reaching back for Nasch’s hand. Nasch let him lead him along until Durbe arrived at a stall, which Nasch recognized through the darkness as belonging to Durbe’s Pegasus. Durbe rubbed Mach’s face and turned back to Nasch. “Nonetheless, people would assume I have committed a great disrespect by calling you by your name. Allow me the great honor of referring to you simply as _my friend_.” His voice slurred over some of the words, and he looked a little embarrassed.

That was fair enough. “I will accept that, though I hope no one thinks we are too… familiar.”

Durbe smiled softly and knelt by Mach’s water trough. “Well, my friend, I am going to sober up and sleep. If you don’t mind waiting a few moments, I could escort you back to your chambers.” He splashed some cold water on his face and shivered reflexively.

Nasch’s brows furrowed. “You’re not actually sleeping out here, are you?”

“I have a small cot made up in the corner here,” Durbe assured him, gesturing to a pallet of blankets in the corner. “I would truly be an embarrassment in my present state, sleeping in the palace.”

“I will join you, then.”

Durbe’s hands froze halfway to the trough. He looked scandalized. “That would be improper, my pr… my friend.”

“No more improper than a tipsy prince wandering the halls,” Nasch retorted. He didn’t feel up to walking all the way up to the palace in his state anyway, and it would be nice to make sure Durbe was all right. He had drunk quite a lot of ale, no matter how well he managed to compose himself.

Durbe hesitated before splashing more water on his face. “Well, I… I suppose…”

Nasch knelt next to him and splashed some of the water on his own face. It felt every bit as wonderful as he’d hoped. Durbe watched him for a moment, and reached suddenly for his hand.

“I didn’t get to thank you for the dance, my friend,” he murmured.

“Oh? Are you asking to seal it with a kiss?” Nasch intended it to be a playful statement, but Durbe’s eyes widened.

“Only… if you allow it,” Durbe said in a quiet voice.

Nasch felt the corners of his lips twitch as Durbe pressed Nasch’s hand to his lips before letting go and turning to stand.

“That was hardly a good kiss, Sir Durbe.”

Durbe paused again and turned slowly back to Nasch. “I am sorry that my thanks was inadequate, my prince.”

“I’ll have to show you how I expect it to be done in the future.” Nasch reveled in Durbe’s half-open mouth and wide eyes, eyes that made him look five years younger than he was, as he got closer to Durbe. He could smell the sickly sweet ale on Durbe's breath, but it didn't deter him too much. “Thank you for the dance, Sir Durbe.”

“I would be honored to dance with you again, my prince.”


End file.
